


With Shaking Hands

by valdomarx (cptxrogers)



Series: Octoberfest fics [19]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Caring Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, the intimacy of bandaging up your travelling companion when he passes out on the floor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27109837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptxrogers/pseuds/valdomarx
Summary: The first time Jaskier patches Geralt up after he's injured on a hunt.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Octoberfest fics [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956754
Comments: 15
Kudos: 270





	With Shaking Hands

**Author's Note:**

> alex xxenjoy's prompts day 19: shaky hands
> 
> I wanted to add a quick note to say thank you to everyone who has read and commented on the Octoberfest series so far. I'm happy to hear people are enjoying these little one-shots, and I may try to come back to some of them in the future for a part two!

Jaskier thought he was doing a rather good job of making himself useful to Geralt on their travels. He earned coin with his performances, secured lodgings for them where he could, and he had even started learning the herbs Geralt used for his witchery potions so he could collect them from the side of the road.

He was not prepared for tonight, however. Returning from a hunt, Geralt had pushed the door to their room open, staggered across the threshold, and collapsed on the floor before Jaskier even had the chance to berate him. Jumping to his feet, he observed the pool of blood spreading across the floor from Geralt’s shoulder and bit back the urge to gag. He really wasn’t good with blood.

But Geralt was in need and there was no one else around to assist, and they had no more money for a healer. He swallowed back the bile in his throat and forcefully evened his breathing. If he didn’t help Geralt, no one would.

He knelt by his side, and using some force was able to turn him over. He looked pale - but then, Geralt always looked pale. The bleeding from his shoulder was sluggish, at least, which he thought was a good sign. 

He fumbled with the buckles on Geralt’s armour, wishing he’d paid more attention to how the fiddly clasps worked. He managed to loosen the chest plate, but as he went to remove it Geralt returned to consciousness, sitting bolt upright with a roar that sent Jaskier skittering back across the room.

“Oh,” Geralt looked at him with unfocused eyes. “It’s you.” He slumped back to the floor, and it seemed that was as much input as Jaskier was going to get from him.

With more jolting and jostling that he intended, Jaskier managed to remove the armour and push aside the shirt beneath so he could see the wound in Geralt’s shoulder. It was deep and ragged, the flaps of skin hanging loose over an ugly, black wound. His stomach rolled as he inspected it and it took all his many years of training in suppressing performance nerves to stop himself from throwing up. 

A few deeps breaths through his nose and he collected himself. The bleeding was already slowing, so presumably Geralt had taken one of his healing potions, though Jaskier wished he’d asked more about those as well. That meant - _think, Jaskier, think_ \- he just needed to disinfect the wound and bandage it. He could do this.

He had half a bottle of vodka he’d been saving for an emergency, and although this wasn‘t the kind of emergency he’d imagined, it certainly counted. He fetched the spirit from his pack and held onto Geralt’s uninjured shoulder firmly.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but this is going to hurt,” he warned. Geralt remained unresponsive, but he twitched violently when Jaskier poured the spirit over his shoulder, soaking away as much of whatever the disgusting black gunk was as he could.

“There, it’s okay, worst part is over now,” he said, pretending he was reassuring Geralt and not himself. “Now we just have to bind you up.”

He fetched bandages and a linen pad from Geralt’s pack and, with shaking hands, bound the wound as best he could, struggling against Geralt’s considerable bulk. He had to rock his upper torso forward to pull the bandages tight around his shoulder, but in the end he managed to secure them in place even if the final result wasn’t pretty.

He considered trying to drag Geralt to the bed, but even lifting his shoulders from the floor had been hard enough. In the end he collected the blankets and pillows from the bed and arranged them around Geralt to make him as comfortable as he could be on the floor. 

He looked so sad lying there that Jaskier fetched his own travelling cloak and laid it over him so he would at least be warm. He chewed at his lip as he spread the fabric down, worrying about whether he’d done enough, whether he had messed something up, why he hadn’t learnt more about medicine so he could be of more help. The feeling of panicked helplessness and guilt was almost overwhelming, anxiety drumming through every inch of him.

“Hey.” Geralt’s eyes barely cracked open, but he reached out and grabbed Jaskier’s arm and his grip was strong and firm. “You did well.” 

“Oh.” He patted Geralt’s hand, the feeling of nausea returning as the adrenaline bled out of him. “I know I don’t… I’m not a healer. But I want you to be okay. I would be… lesser, should anything happen to you.”

It must have been a trick of the light, but he thought he saw Geralt’s mouth flick up into a smile for a moment. “Hmm,” he said, and Jaskier assumed that was all the response he would be getting tonight. 

But as he rose to tidy the room and to blow out the candles, Geralt surprised him once more. “I’d be lesser,” he mumbled as sleep took him, “without you too.”


End file.
